<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>An Unveiling by 96percentdone (Nakanaide)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566103">An Unveiling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakanaide/pseuds/96percentdone'>96percentdone (Nakanaide)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Understanding (LCC Except it's Gay Now) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chaos;Child (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon, Denial of Feelings, LCC Shinji's ending taken seriously and made gayer, Locked In, M/M, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:54:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,593</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakanaide/pseuds/96percentdone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a rare day that the Newspaper Club is only its two founding members. Things escalate from there. </p><p>AKA: I wrote a fic out of spite where Shinji gets the gay romance he deserves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Itou Shinji (Chaos;Child)/Miyashiro Takuru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Understanding (LCC Except it's Gay Now) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An Unveiling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lonely is the best word that captures the mood of the normally-vibrant newspaper club room. The cheery sunlight streaming through the window and the translucent yellow curtains brightens up the room with a million objects and absolutely no people. Kazuki is not sitting in her makeshift PC nook between the back wall and the bookshelf. No Serika is passing out snacks that she brought from the cafeteria, and no Kurusu sitting on her folding chair shooting down any of Itou’s ideas on what to cover for the next article. There’s no Arimura-san dropping in with a chirpy ‘Ciao!’ and not even shy Uki hovering in the corner with a small smile watching the usual chaos. It’s empty; Takuru’s alone. No matter, maybe he’ll find something worthwhile to cover alone and introduce it to everyone for the next meeting. </p><p>The door slams open, and he jumps. “Hey—huh? Where is everyone?” Takuru turns around to find Itou, blinking bewildered in the doorway. “Is it just us?” he asks, after walking in. </p><p>“Yeah. Kurusu is taking Uki out shopping, and Onoe, Kazuki and Arimura-san are going with them to get crepes. I think.” Honestly, he stopped paying attention when it was clear he wasn’t invited. “Said it was a ‘girls only’ trip.”</p><p>“Lame,” says Itou, taking a seat on the spinning office chair by the whiteboard. “I’d want to see that too.”</p><p>See? See what? “Itou, what do you think is going to be happening…?” He doesn’t think he likes where this is going.</p><p>“Well, if they’re getting crepes that can be kinda messy right? So—”</p><p>“Ah, stop talking, I don’t want to hear it!!” Takuru groans, sitting at his desk chair nearby the corkboard. </p><p>“Hoh?” <em> Oh no. </em> Itou grins slyly in his direction. “Don’t wanna hear what?” <em> Please don’t. </em>“What was I going to say? Hm?”</p><p>“Shut up.” They both know he was going to say something about one of the girls getting cream on her face and the other one licking it off, but he isn’t going to be the one to admit it. <em> I want to die.  </em></p><p>“Miyashiro’s a pervert huh?” He sounds so smug. Takuru would wipe that smug look off his face if he wasn’t too busy begging for the sweet merciful embrace of death.</p><p>“I don’t want to hear that from <em> you! </em>”</p><p> Itou snickers, and maybe Takuru wants to be annoyed at that, but he isn’t. Maybe it’s because he’s tired today; his brain has been vague mush the entire morning, and it hasn’t gotten better. Otherwise, he would deck him, instead of <strike> staring </strike> glaring uselessly. “Can we get to work please?”</p><p>“Do we even have work today? I thought we threw out those weird cases,” he says in response. </p><p>“We did, but…” he’s bored, not that he’ll say it out loud. What he’s even less inclined to say out loud is that if they have nothing to do, then they’ll both go home and he’ll be bored there instead. And alone. Hey, if the girls get to go on an excursion together then he and Itou should do something too! Something exciting! Like…um…what do guys normally do when they hang out? Play video games? He’s not into a lot of games if he’s being honest. Not to mention that sounds kind of boring. They could go to Café LAX? They always go there. That’s lame. Okay well, then where would they go? Do guys even go on trips like girls do? What is he supposed to do?</p><p>“Hey, Miyashiro,” Itou snaps him out of his endless questioning as he slides his chair next to him and presents him his PokeCom. All dreams of adventures in Shibuya crumble on sight. On the screen is an image of the dissection and brutalization of an unknown woman in Uehara from the early 2000s. He remembers this one. The case has long since gone cold, and most online communities have even given up on investigating, moving on to newer cases. Of course. It’s Itou; what else would they do? “Want to take a look at this one again?”</p><p>“Is there new info?”</p><p>“I dunno, maybe. There are a few recent articles, but they’re probably conspiracies tying it to New Gen. It’s worth checking out if we have nothing better to do right?” Itou asks, glancing at Takuru for the okay. </p><p>This is probably for the best. <em> I overthought things earlier, </em>he thinks as he nods. They don’t need to go on a trip. They should just do something fun, and fun for Itou and himself has always been investigating and reporting. “Check out that one first,” he gestures to one of the articles further down the search results, and they settle into an old but yet still familiar routine.</p><p>They used to do this all the time. For a while, before Serika or Kazuki were in high school, or Kurusu fully joined the club, it would only be the two of them, sitting around a PokeCom, reading articles about unsolved cases, old and new. Oftentimes it would devolve into bickering because Itou was absolutely sure that the culprit was person A, and Takuru thought that theory had too many holes or other similar arguments. Last time they talked about this particular case, Itou had interrogated Takuru on his theory for so long that the logic that once seemed rock solid turned to dusty gravel fragments.</p><p>“I can’t believe people still think Kobayashi did it…” Itou says, and Takuru can’t help but laugh a little. He was just thinking about that. “Hm?” He looks over concerned. </p><p>“Ah, It’s nothing.” Takuru quickly gets himself under control; hopefully, Itou doesn’t remember and make fun of him for it again. “It’s not surprising those wrong-siders are still clinging on to this idea.” Itou shrugs and turns back to the screen. Crisis averted.</p><p>About halfway into their first year, Kurusu joined the club and things changed. Mainly that they were now expected to cover actual school events and write about them, instead of ‘using it as an excuse to be into true crime’. They still had these moments every once and a while, but it gradually happened less and less as more people joined, and more mundane things in Shibuya occurred to report on. It wasn’t a bad change. It was nice to have his sister in the club, loathe as he is to admit it. But now that they’re here, the two of them, in a way it hasn’t been in at least half a year, there’s something nostalgic tugging at his heartstrings. <em> Maybe the girls should go on trips more often.  </em></p><p>Takuru yawns. Or maybe he’s tired, and that’s why he’s feeling like this. How much time has passed anyway? Outside tells him nothing. Neither does the clock; his brain is too cloudy to read it. God, he’s tired. Was he always this tired? He didn’t think he slept that little. Maybe he did. Maybe he should call it a day. But he and Itou were getting somewhere pretty close, so he can probably afford a few more minutes, right?</p><p>Itou is still talking about some article, reexamining an old piece of evidence (a torn-up paper with an ambiguous phrase on it) from a new perspective. Takuru tries to read it, leaning closer, but none of the words register as sentences. </p><p>“Oi, Miyashiro?” is the last thing he hears before slumping over asleep.</p><p> </p><p>Something is moving underneath him, ever so gently. Up…down…up…down. It’s subtle, but it’s there. At least it’s warm. “Mmn…” He doesn’t want to get up; he’s comfortable. Does he have to? What time is it anyway? Where is he? <em> Well, the last thing I remember was…newspaper club…Itou and I were reading an article and then— </em></p><p>Takuru screams, jumping awake with a start, and looks around the room. It was the ever-familiar club room, now only with the lights off. A glance out the window showed the moon hanging in the sky surrounded by an array of twinkling stars. It’s pretty, but it also means he should have gone home a while ago. </p><p>Next to him, still in his office chair but leaning towards the whiteboard is Itou. Eyes closed, quiet breathing—he’s asleep. <em> Wait, did I— </em>forget it, he doesn’t want to get into that right now. Or ever. “Oi, Itou.” In response, Itou grumbles something too slurred and soft for him to hear and stirs ever so slightly, but he still doesn’t get up. “Wake up.”</p><p>“What time is it…?” Itou yawns. He tries to check his phone, but it doesn’t turn on. Perhaps it died. </p><p>“Eight o’clock.” Or at least so says the battery-operated clock sitting in the back of the room.</p><p>“Eight?!” </p><p>Takuru nods. They’ve been here for several more hours than they should have been. He’s surprised Itou stayed after he fell asleep. Maybe he tried to wake him up and failed? But why stay? <em> And why let me— </em>nope, he’s not unpacking that. He already said he wouldn’t. They’re going to move past it. It’s time to go home, so there’s no need to think about it. </p><p>While Itou cleans up some of his things, Takuru makes for the door. Hands on the door-handle, he pulls and—nothing. Nothing? Another tug. And again. But regardless of how hard he tries, the door simply rattles and doesn’t open. “Hey, Itou…”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“We’re locked in.”</p><p>“Hah?!” Itou stops what he’s doing and runs up to the door. After several futile attempts to yank it open, he turns to Takuru and asks “Why? Didn’t they check to see if someone was in here?”</p><p>“Apparently not,” Takuru replies. Staff must be getting lazy. Or maybe they found out about Kazuki’s tendency to break in at night to play video games, and they stopped wanting to risk it. He doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter. “Do you think we can contact someone?”</p><p>“My phone is dead, what about you?”</p><p>“I don’t have it. It’s in my locker.” </p><p>Itou lets out an exasperated sigh, before clapping his hands together. “We’ll use the internet then!” He whips out his PokeCom only to blink in confusion. He clicks around for a few moments before saying. “Or…not.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“There isn’t any wifi.”</p><p>Really? Why not? Actually wait—Takuru hits the light switch—on-off-on-off—but nothing happens. That explains why it’s so dark in here. “The power went out.” His instinct is to search the web, check for information as to why, when can they expect it to return, etc, but well…they can’t do any of that. </p><p>“Miyashiro…what do we do?” The worry in his tone is palpable. </p><p>“I…” He doesn’t know! They’re locked in the school? Possibly overnight? What kind of cliché romance manga farce is this? Is this what his life has become? Could this not have happened with a girl? Not that he knows what he would even do in that situation. Would that be better? <em> Of course, it would be better! </em>But he’s not sure why; it just sounds like that should be true. </p><p>Still, it could be worse, he thinks, watching as Itou’s eyes dance between him, the door, and his PokeCom. <em> He’s so antsy. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him this nervous. </em>If he was going to be locked in school, it’s nice it’s with a friend. Better than being alone. “I guess we should wait it out. Maybe the power will come back soon.”</p><p>“And if it doesn’t?”</p><p>“Then…I guess we’re spending the night.” Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that. Even ignoring the awkward circumstances—<em> why did Itou let me…ugh, stop </em>—there’s only so long Takuru can go without his phone. He’s a rightsider; he needs to be up to date at all times. “There’s not much else we can do. Besides, school is open tomorrow, so we’ll be let out tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“Can’t be helped,” Itou says, and both of them return to their seats. Takuru was about to suggest they resume the investigation, but without any internet, that seems impossible. Back in his chair, Itou is still fidgety, aimlessly rubbing his fingers together, or clicking through programs while not using any of them. “Tch,” he says, closing out yet another app that probably doesn’t work without service. Is this situation that stressful? Maybe he’s worried about his family. Takuru’s sure Kurusu is worried about him right now, even if she probably assumes he's back in his RV. Then again, Itou has never been the type to talk about his home, so perhaps not. But still….</p><p>“This situation sucks,” Takuru says, in an attempt to break the silence, or maybe to get Itou to talk.</p><p>“No kidding…” Itou says, and something in his demeanor shifts. The fidgeting stops, and he’s back to smirking again. “This is the kinda situation that’s better with a girl, right?” Yep, back to normal. Takuru nods. He was thinking the same thing earlier, wasn’t he? “Would you rather Onoe was here or—”</p><p>“No!” God, he doesn’t know nor care. Maybe he doesn’t want to be stuck here with a girl! Wait… scratch that, he doesn’t want to be stuck here at all. Yeah. Forget fantasizing about girls; now isn’t the time for that. “Not answering that! I refuse!” </p><p>“Aw, come on,” Itou frowns, clearly disappointed his usual teasing routine was shut down immediately. “It’s not like there’s anything better to do—” Growl. He pauses, and his stomach rumbles again. “Well, I guess there’s one thing better to do,” says Itou, rummaging through his things. Dangling from his hands is a crumpled ball of plastic wrap, the white sticker label reading ‘tuna sandwich’. A frown. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a sandwich on you, would you?”</p><p>“Uh, maybe?” He did get something from the cafeteria before he came here, and he’s pretty sure he didn’t eat it. Takuru shuffles around for a bit before taking out a sandwich, still neatly tucked inside its clear wrapping. </p><p>Sitting next to him, Itou lights up, eyes fixated on the sandwich. He seems…excited. <em> It’s just a ham sandwich. </em>Actually…Takuru thinks back on his many interactions with his best friend; doesn’t he have the upper hand for once? Maybe he can get some payback for all the teasing. Takuru takes out one of the triangular sandwich halves and takes a bite. Instantly, Itou’s excitement dims a little. “You’re not gonna share?”</p><p>“Was I supposed to?”</p><p>“For someone who claims to be a normie, you’re not very good at reading social cues,” Itou remarks.</p><p>Oof, that hit his ego pretty good. For a moment Takuru considers tossing half the sandwich over and being done with it, but he doesn’t back down. “I think it’s important to be polite. Try asking nicely.”</p><p>“You’re really going to make me beg when I’m hungry?”</p><p>No response. Takuru struggles to keep a shit-eating grin off his face, as he continues eating his half of the sandwich without making eye-contact. This is a lot of fun. Suddenly it makes sense why Itou is always messing with him. <em> I should have power more often. </em></p><p>From the corner of his eye, Itou grumbles, with a big cartoonishly frustrated frown. Yeah, that’s a sight. (Isn’t that kinda—no, vengeance is worth remembering. And it’s out of character too). Finally, he heaves a sigh. “Please can I have some of your ham sandwich?”</p><p>“You don’t sound like you mean it.”</p><p>“Miyashiro…!”</p><p>“Alright fine,” Takuru snorts, tossing the other half, wrapper and all. Itou scrambles to catch it and then begins eating.</p><p>Normally, the club room is filled with the sounds of casual discussion about this or that news story, and the clicking of keys from Kazuki’s gaming, but with no wifi late at night, a comfortable silence settles into place. This too is familiar. “We haven’t been to the Central Library in a while,” Takuru says. In the early years of their friendship, if you could call it that, they’d run into each other in the newspaper or the nonfiction sections of the library. If they weren’t arguing (and nearly getting kicked out), they were reading. At first, it was ostensibly to prove the thing they were arguing about, but gradually it transitioned into reading together, interspersed with the occasional comment, then recommendation, then conversation.</p><p>Itou nods, making a noise of assent, and swallows. “After the newspaper club became a thing, we didn’t have to go there, huh?” It’s true. There stopped being a need to go out and find things to investigate with the internet in the clubroom at their fingertips, and even more so when Kurusu started giving them actual articles to write. The club room turned into their default hangout place. “Do you miss getting teased for your manga taste?”</p><p>“N-no! And it was one time!” Takuru had on accident picked up a manga that seemed to be about a string of mysterious deaths, but in practice was an excuse for BL, entirely unaware. When Itou showed up, Takuru was (unfortunately) three volumes in, and he had a LOT to say. <em> ‘Wow, Miyashiro, didn’t realize you were a fudanshi~!’ </em> he had said with an overzealous smirk. “Besides, you recognized it.”</p><p>In the darkness of the room, lit only by Itou’s PokeCom, he thinks he sees hints of color bloom on Itou’s face. “You’re like four years late with that comeback…” he mutters, plainly embarrassed. If he was a girl, Takuru would say it was cute. Adorable even. What is he thinking about?</p><p>Takuru shakes his head. He’s getting off-topic. “Maybe we should go.”</p><p>“Aren’t you spending enough time with me today?”</p><p>“Not now, obviously.” He elbows Itou with a light glare. Idiot. What does that mean anyway? <em> Do I want to know? </em>“I was thinking maybe the next time the girls are all busy.”</p><p>Itou puts a finger to his chin and hums loudly. <em> Does…does he have to think about it? </em>Did Takuru mess up? Do guys not hang out in places after middle school? Or maybe he accidentally asked him—“Yeah it’ll be fun. Maybe tomorrow, as payback.”</p><p>Oh. Man, why is his brain jumping to weird places all of a sudden? Maybe he <em> is </em> sick. That brain fog is still there a little, albeit less prominent than in the afternoon.  “Guess you’re not spending <em> that </em>much time with me today, then.”</p><p>Instead of getting flustered, Itou just shrugs and says “Guess not!” <em> Damn. </em>He was hoping too. It was cute—funny. Yeah. There’s a beat before Itou asks, “Do you think the girls do stuff like this?” </p><p>“Stuff like what?”</p><p>“Like, sleepovers.” Itou’s curious gaze is half-illuminated only by the moonlight gleaming from the windows, his normally deep grey eyes even darker in the nighttime. </p><p>“Is this really a sleepover?”</p><p>“It might as well be. It’s more fun like that right?” Itou grins boyishly, and Takuru thinks his brain fog is coming back because it’s all he can think about. “We should make the most of it. We never did stuff like this.”</p><p>“Do boys do stuff like that?”</p><p>“Man, who cares. Since when did you want to be like everyone else anyway?”</p><p>Takuru doesn’t have a response to that. Why does he care anyway? Itou is right; since when did he want to be like everyone else? <em> They might say things though… </em> They already do. He’s the weird kid who can’t talk to his classmates and doesn’t remember half of their names. They’d definitely say something, right? Or, would they? Is this that bad? Would it matter to them at all? Does it even matter to him? He’s having fun, right? </p><p>Poke. Takuru blinks. “Hey don’t space out on me; I’m bored,” Itou whines, nudging and poking him. “If you fall asleep, I won’t forgive you.”</p><p>Takuru never answered, did he? Whoops. “Cut that out; I’m awake!” He grabs Itou’s wrist and shoves his hands back where they came from. Their fingers brush when he pulls away—wait, why does he care anyway? “I guess you’re right though.”</p><p>“Mm?” Itou looks up from his hands, bewildered. <em> Did you already forget what we were talking about? </em></p><p>“I don’t care about what everyone else thinks.” This is nice. Alone time with his best friend is long overdue, even if it’s in these strange circumstances. “Although this situation is a little absurd, this is…kind of fun.”  Surprisingly, those words did manage to come out of his mouth.</p><p>“What’s this? Miyashiro, are you feeling alright?” Itou’s eyes go wide, but the faux surprise is canceled by the impish grin spreading across his face. “I think I heard you express positive feelings out loud! Maybe you should go to sleep after all.”</p><p>“Oh my god, shut up!” <em> I regret everything, </em>Takuru thinks, playfully shoving Itou. “Remind me to never say anything nice about you again.”</p><p>A cackle, slightly nasally but strangely mellifluous laugh erupts from Itou. Does he get that much joy from this? After wiping his eyes, Itou calms down a little. Still giggling, he says “Man, you’re such a tsundere.”</p><p>“I am not!”</p><p>“You totally are, and you just proved it to me,” and with that Itou is a helpless snickering mess again. Takuru’s staring again, and he knows it. Yet he can’t help but watch as Itou laughs, eyes closed, head thrown back against the cushion of the office chair, barely managing to breathe. Soon enough, Takuru finds himself laughing too, balled up in his chair unable to contain himself. It’s contagious. Maybe he is a tsundere after all.</p><p>After seemingly forever, and yet also no time at all, the uproarious laughter slows into giggles and chuckles and eventually fades away. Takuru yawns and a slight chill crawls up his back. He’s still out of it. “What time is it?”</p><p>“Bit past 9:15,” Itou responds. “Tired?”</p><p>“Kind-of, yeah,” Takuru yawns again and shivers. Does he have a cold? <em> Might explain why my head’s been all blurry… </em></p><p>Normally mirthful eyes now watch him with worry. Itou’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again once he decides on, “We should set up then. I might stay up for a bit, but you should probably sleep.”</p><p>Takuru nods in agreement, and the two of them get to work pushing the tables off to the side and laying out sheets of cardboard as a makeshift mattress. Returning to his chair, Itou says “Good night, Miyashiro.” </p><p>“Yeah, goodnight,” Takuru says, lying back on the marginally more comfortable cardboard. The room is still, other than Itou typing away on his PokeCom. He’s probably working on another one of his true-crime journals, even if without power he can’t update his blog. He’s dedicated in that way, Takuru thinks, a small smile gracing his face as he closes his eyes.</p><p>What’s gotten into him today? Since when was he all sentimental about Itou? Is it because he might be coming down with something? Probably. Is there any other way to explain all the times he’s caught himself staring? The thought prompts him to glance at the man trapped in the room with him. Click-clack, tap-tap. As expected, Itou is fixated on the story he’s working on. The motion of nimble hands dancing across the keys is entrancing in his sleep-deprived brain. Snapping him from his daze, Itou furrows his brows at him, confused. He thinks he sees the faintest trace of sheepishness on those brightly lit cheeks. “Is this distracting?”</p><p>“N-no, it’s fine,” Takuru stutters—fuck, he was staring again!—and rolls over on his side facing away. Why is he doing that? Is he for real? <em> Isn’t this the type of pathetic behavior from someone with a cr— </em> and stop. He doesn’t have a crush. No way. How could he? He’s not gay; he’s sure of it. He spends so much time daydreaming about girls! <em> Even if I always feel awkward about it afterwards— </em>but that doesn’t have to mean anything. Just like it doesn’t mean anything that he was aimlessly gazing at Itou, and it doesn’t mean anything that he got caught up in the musicality of Itou’s laugh, or that it was really fun to tease him earlier…When he started blushing from embarrassment it was cute…Wonder what that face looks like in better lighting…? It’s probably—No, he’s still doing it! Why? Why is he—</p><p>A sneeze, his own, breaks him from his thoughts. Never mind all that, he’s cold. Really cold. Takuru lifts his knees to his chest and huddles, still shuddering despite his efforts. <em> Ah…with no power there’s no heat either… </em> No wonder why he keeps shivering. <em> It’s going to be hard to sleep like this.  </em></p><p>From behind him, Itou shuffles around through the myriad of stuff on the tables and in the bookcases. What’s he looking for? Takuru turns over to ask when—plop! Darkness envelops his face; Takuru pulls off the sudden warmth revealing—a jacket? </p><p>Sitting next to him on the floor, Itou, now without his uniform jacket, says “Couldn’t find anything else, so you’ll have to make do with that.” Their eyes meet for a brief moment before he lies down, facing away from Takuru. </p><p>Staring at Itou’s back and his unkempt hair, Takuru’s jaw hangs ajar in a tiny ‘o’. The black jacket in his hand is soft, albeit not very thick, but it’s something. Gingerly draping it over his shoulders, he utters, “Thanks.”</p><p>“Mhm,” Itou grunts. </p><p>Is he embarrassed? Probably. Or maybe that’s Takuru projecting the inexplicable warmth that’s graced his face. <em> Definitely inexplicable, </em> he thinks, clutching the jacket closer to him. To be honest, he’s still a bit cold, even with this additional layer, but... <em> It smells… </em>his thoughts trail off, unable to identify what it is. He never had a good sense of smell, and it’s subtle. Sleeve pressed up against his nose, he breathes it in. Does he even know what he’s doing anymore? No. Does he care? </p><p>………</p><p>He’ll get back on that one. </p><p>Still, it’s hard to sleep, with his vague headache, in this freezing room. “Itou.”</p><p>“Mm…?”</p><p>“Are you awake?”</p><p>“Trying not to be,” Itou flips over to face him, and Takuru scrambles to pull the jacket away from his face. There’s a gentleness in the shadows of those deep dark eyes. “Weren’t you supposed to try to sleep?”</p><p>“Yeah, but I’m…” Takuru runs through several words before settling on “bored. And I have a bit of a headache.”</p><p>“Leave it to you to complain about boredom when you’re supposed to be trying to sleep…” Itou shakes his head with a small smile, a strand of his black hair falling in front of his eyes. He brushes it aside. “Well, if this is an impromptu sleepover, might as well whip out the awkward questions, right?”</p><p>“What are we, teenage girls?”</p><p>“Consider it investigative journalism.”</p><p>“More like gossip column writing…”</p><p>“Hey, you were the one complaining of boredom, so unless you have better ideas, you’ll just have to deal.” Itou lies on his back, and Takuru does the same, readjusting the jacket to his new position. “So…have a crush on anyone?”</p><p>“Really?!” <em> That’s the first one he picked? </em></p><p>“I like to go straight for what matters,” Itou laughs halfheartedly; in the corner of Takuru’s vision, a blush creeps up his face.</p><p>“What matters huh…?”</p><p>“It’s the juiciest scoop there is.”</p><p>“Didn’t realize you were such a wrong-sider,” Takuru snickers.</p><p>“Stop deflecting.”</p><p>Oof. Called out. How does he answer this? “I uh…I don’t know.” Takuru scratches at his cheek. “I don’t know if I have one. I mean, there’s a lot of girls in my life now who are all y’know, a-attractive, but I don’t know if I’m really into them.” He’s just telling the truth. All his daydreams about the women in his life have been awkward, almost intrusive. He truly can’t say he's into them or not. He doesn’t say he’s not sure if he’s into women. He won’t say he might be into Itou.</p><p>“Lame.”</p><p>“Hah?” Takuru turns to face him in disbelief. What kind of response is that? “What were you expecting?”</p><p>“I dunno,” Itou shrugs. “Maybe you’d say you have a crush on Onoe or something boring like that.”</p><p>“Onoe…?” <em> I guess that makes sense. </em>They have been friends forever, but… “I’ve known her for too long. It’s pretty hard for me to see her as anything other than just…Onoe.”</p><p>It’s quiet. Itou’s expression is inscrutable in this solely moonlit room. What’s he thinking about? What’s there <em> to </em> think about? <em> What’s on your mind? </em>But the answer doesn’t come. Or rather, he doesn’t think, “Probably means you haven’t kissed anyone either then,” is the answer.</p><p>“Don’t rub it in!! It’s not like you have either!”</p><p>“You’re right; I haven’t.”</p><p>“Won’t change either if you keep acting like a skirt-chaser.”</p><p>“Wow, brutal.”</p><p><em> I thought that would get more of a reaction out of him… </em>Whatever, he has a better plan anyway. After all, “It’s your turn.”</p><p>“It’s a secret~”</p><p>“Hey! That’s cheating!”</p><p>“You give a lame answer, you get a lame answer.”</p><p>“I was being honest!” Kind-of. “You’re just being cheap,” Takuru huffs, disappointed, rolling back onto his back. <em> I wanted… </em>he doesn’t know. Maybe he wanted to know, but maybe it’s better he doesn’t. His heart’s been doing weird things lately. </p><p>A sigh. “Fine, you want a hint?” Itou hums, pondering what to say that presumably won’t make it too obvious. Despite what he was telling himself moments ago, Takuru’s heart races in anticipation. What kind of face is he making? <em> I can’t bring myself to check. </em>Seconds pass like hours as Takuru waits in suspense. (If nothing else it’ll distract from how cold he is). Finally, he says, “It’s someone you know.”</p><p>“Newspaper Club?”</p><p>“Do you know anyone else…?”</p><p>Ouch. That one kinda hurt. “Touché.” Still the Newspaper Club huh? None of the members seem like his type. Itou has made some dirty comment or another on virtually everyone, save Uki, and in doing so gives off the air that he’s not interested in any of them. He doesn’t think it’s Kazuki, because they, or rather, she doesn’t talk much. Onoe is…Nah she’s too airheaded. Takuru gets the feeling Itou likes someone who can keep up with him. That probably rules out Arimura-san too. Maybe Kurusu? They always seemed to get along whenever he was over; maybe there’s more? But then again, Itou always just seemed happy to fit in with the dynamic at home. So maybe not. “This hint is crap.”</p><p>“You’re not getting another one.”</p><p>“Cheapskate.” So, then who’s left? <em> I guess there’s me, but… </em> Takuru gazes down at his body, and all the curves it doesn’t have; he’s not Itou’s type either. Something sinks in his chest down to his stomach. <em> Haha, why am I disappointed? </em>Is it the proximity that’s causing Takuru to feel this way? Would this happen if he was stuck here with Serika? He doesn’t think so. His head hurts. </p><p>“Achoo,” Takuru sneezes; once again the chill takes him out of his thought-spiral. Guess a uniform jacket can only do so much. Wracked with shivers, he clings tighter to the thin black fabric resting on his upper body. Cold. </p><p>“Still cold huh?” Itou asks, and it’s only then Takuru notices how gentle his voice has been compared to how casually unabashed it usually is. Then a cool hand presses gently to Takuru’s sweaty forehead. He has to bite down on his cheek so he doesn’t squeak in surprise. <em> What—what is he—? </em>“Well, that’s not good. You have a slight fever, I think.”</p><p>“A-ah, yeah,” Takuru stammers—<em> god what is wrong with me?— </em>as Itou pulls his hand away. </p><p>“I’d use the map as a blanket, but that thing is 1) incredibly flimsy and 2) easy to cut yourself on.”</p><p>“U-uhuh.” What did Itou say? He’s not paying attention. Takuru’s mind is a chaotic loop of low voices and the faintly lingering touch of Itou’s hand. What has he become? Weak and helpless from the casual concern of his best friend. That’s not normal, even if he’s sick and out of it! God, he’s cold. If he were warm and not shuddering on the cardboard, maybe he could make sense of all this. Maybe he’d know if this was a real crush, or brought on by proximity, or if he’s even gay. Maybe this is all just a fever dream, and tomorrow he’ll wake up, hear Itou’s usual “Morning, Miyashiro,” and think nothing of it. Maybe. He’s so cold. </p><p>Itou is still talking, which Takuru completely missed. Takuru thinks he asked a question at some point? <em> I don’t know. Just respond. </em>“Yeah.” Maybe that’s not the right response. There might not have even been a question. Shouldn’t he have asked him to repeat himself? Oh well, it’s too late, it’s probably not a—</p><p>An arm is slung over his front, pulling him until his back is pressed up against something solid and warm. Or rather, someone. Itou. <em> H…huh? </em>Takuru doesn’t move, or even exhale, as the words he didn’t process suddenly click into his memory.</p><p>
  <em> “Hm…The Empress wouldn’t forgive me if I let you get hypothermia…. She’s scary, y’know? Stuck in this room the only option is, well, huddling. Body heat. Are…are you okay with that?” </em>
</p><p>He said yes to that?! That’s what he gets for not paying attention. Idiot. Dumbass. Moron. <em>Like this is going to help your confused feelings…! </em>Good work, Miyashiro Takuru; way to add to the stack of things to come to terms with! But…</p><p>Bu-bum, bu-bum, bu-bum. His heartbeat is as loud as thunder in his chest. Up against his back, Itou breathes in deep waves. Hot air grazes the back of Takuru’s neck, his body pressing closer only to recede with each movement of his diaphragm; the smell from the jacket is stronger now. Takuru’s once instinctual shivering gradually subsides into stillness. There’s an arm draped over his side, wrapped around him almost protectively, and another folded under his head. It’s…warm. Comfortable. He wants to stay here because he’s sick. </p><p>“Better…?” Itou asks. He’s so close that his voice, smooth and kind, is right by Takuru’s ear. Takuru wrinkles his toes so as not to squirm. </p><p>“…Yeah. Thanks.” He lied earlier. He wants to stay here, because it’s Itou. </p><p>“Like I said; don’t want your sister to kill me,” Itou chuckles. There’s a nervous (maybe awkward?) edge to his words he normally doesn’t have. Takuru tries peering behind him—is he blushing? Is his face as red as Takuru’s surely is?—but all he can see are wisps of black hair.</p><p>“Hey, Itou.”</p><p>“Mhm?”</p><p>“What would you do if it was one of the girls in this situation instead of me?” Takuru doesn’t know where he got the urge to ask, or even understand where the question came from, but…yeah he definitely had to ask. </p><p>“Oh? Now you <em> want </em>to be a gossip columnist?” Itou teases.</p><p>“Now who needs to stop deflecting?”</p><p>A snort tickles the back of his neck. “Okay fine,” Itou says. He doesn’t continue. Does he need to think about it? Takuru figured he would say something gross and horny, and then maybe backpedal, but he didn’t. What is there to think about? “I don’t think I would do anything.”</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“It’s true! I’m not actually all that interested in stuff like that!” He sounds so flustered. Takuru only wishes he could see what his face looks like.</p><p>“Uhuh, sure. You’d probably go looking for a reason to sleep like this, huh?” Wait, Takuru doesn’t think he wants the answer to that—</p><p>“I would not!”</p><p>“Maybe you’d try to go even further—”</p><p>Itou whines, face slumped so that his nose brushes against the back of Takuru’s head, and huffs “What would <em> you </em>do?”</p><p>“H-hah?” That’s not fair! That should be against the rules. He doesn’t want to play this game anymore. </p><p>“Surely you’d do something.”</p><p>“No way! I’m not a pervert like you!”</p><p>“Could have fooled me~,” Itou says with a snicker.</p><p>“I’m not! I wouldn’t do anything.” Doesn’t he know by now just how socially inept Takuru is? He couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to. At least, not with a girl. </p><p>“Okay then, neither would I.”</p><p>“Fine, fine.” Takuru’s not sure he’s sold on that logic, but he’ll drop it. It’s not getting anywhere. The fact that it didn’t go anywhere is a relief. He’s not sure what he would do if Itou started going on about all the things he would do to his presumed crush. Especially while he lies here enveloped by him.  He’d probably die. Yeah, definitely would die. </p><p>“Hey, Miyashiro…”</p><p>“Mm?” But no matter how long Takuru waits, Itou never finishes his thought. Maybe he fell asleep? He doesn’t feel like that’s it though. More likely, Itou changed his mind on what he was going to say. And if Takuru is right, then he thinks Itou was going to say: “What if it was another guy?”</p><p>“We’re in this situation right now.”</p><p>“I mean, besides me!” Itou’s a pretty amicable guy. Surely, he gets along with other people in Hekiho, or maybe even outside of it.</p><p>If Itou weren’t lying behind him right now, dark hair with his own, Takuru’s not sure he would even hear him when he says “I don’t know.” He exhales, and when he goes to speak again there’s a twinge of loneliness, or perhaps resignation. “I’m not close with other guys.”</p><p>“Really?” That’s a surprise. Takuru always thought that Itou could be decently popular if he ever tried. <em> Maybe if he didn’t hang around me… </em></p><p>“Yeah. I mean, we get along just fine but…” He pauses and then laughs lightly. “I’ve always been happy with the one I have.” </p><p><em> Oh. </em>Takuru is impossibly warm now. Itou’s hand, the one holding him, rests near his heart, and he can only pray that he didn’t notice the way it skipped a beat.</p><p>The lack of response must have gotten to him, because then Itou asks, “What would you do if it was another guy?”</p><p>“Let him die from hypothermia.”</p><p>“Ha! That’s <em> cold. </em>”</p><p>A laugh. “Shut up.” It’s not that funny, but Takuru has a surprising amount of happiness he doesn’t know what to do with, and it all comes out like this.</p><p>Itou murmurs something short he can’t catch.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Seriously though, what would you do?”</p><p>That sounds like too many words for what Itou might have said earlier, but… “I um…” What would he do? His situation with Itou is weird enough as it is, with his maybe crush thing. Would this happen with other guys? Would the proximity to them awaken this in him too? The thought sits in his mind. “I don’t know.” He doesn’t think so. Actually, he thinks that this situation didn’t change anything, to begin with; it just forced him to be aware of all that he normally ignored. “Well, the…”</p><p>“Yeah…?”</p><p>“Well, the odds of me being stuck with another guy that isn’t you are—they’re next to zero.” Oh god, he’s rambling. “I don’t have any other guy friends either, they’re all wrong-siders, you know? So—” Someone save him from himself. “so I wouldn’t let you die from hypothermia.” What the fuck is he talking about? “We’re friends, you know? Plus, I—I have to return the favour.”</p><p>Itou makes a choking noise, then another one, and finally bursts out laughing. “How many times do you think this is going to happen?” He laughs and laughs, and Takuru thinks if any more blood rushes to his face it’ll explode. </p><p>“Argh, just go to bed! Forget it! This game is over!” <em> I want to die.  </em></p><p>Itou is still laughing when he says, “Goodnight, tsuntsun Miyashiro.”</p><p>“Goodnight,” Takuru grumbles, forcing his eyes shut. It doesn’t take long for the warmth and the steady rhythm of Itou’s breathing to lull him to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Chirp, chirp. The cry of nearby pigeons slowly rouses Takuru from blissful sleep. Doesn’t he normally wake up to an alarm? This doesn’t feel like his bed either…Wait, wasn’t he at school? Yeah. He and Itou were locked in here, so they had to stay the night. And then…something. Takuru yawns, rubbing the sand out of his eyes. </p><p>“Morning, Miyashiro,” A dulcet voice greets him. It’s so close. Takuru turns his head towards the sound and is faced with Itou, gazing at him with soft almost purple-grey eyes and a tender smile. His normally carefully tousled hair is all messed up from sleep. <em> Pretty… </em> </p><p>“Morning,” Takuru breathes. Oh yeah. This…everything happened too. He doesn’t want to get up. Getting up means going back to reality and leaving this serene bubble. It means facing these feelings he now has and having to do something with them. </p><p>“Doing any better…?” The question is slow to come out of his mouth; Itou is probably still half asleep. Takuru barely gets his mouth open when Itou’s forehead is pressed against his, catching his breath in his throat. <em> So close--! </em> His eyes shut on instinct. “Mm, yeah,” Itou says, pulling away, and Takuru can breathe again. “You seem fine. That’s good.”</p><p>Then he blinks. Again. A third time and his eyes widen. The arm that once rested on top of Takuru moves back to Itou’s side as he rolls over. “We should get up.” When he does, Takuru finds himself cold again, but this time it’s not because he’s sick.</p><p>“Ah, yeah.” Takuru slowly sits up, real-life creeping its way back into the idealistic world he had built for himself in a night. Itou’s jacket falls to his lap. He should probably return that. “Um, here,” he says, handing the jacket back. </p><p>“Thanks,” Itou says, averting his eyes. </p><p>They ‘get ready’ in silence. Straightening out their uniforms, readjusting their ties, all of it happens without a drop of noise. Takuru watches as Itou runs his fingers through his hair in a desperate bid to make it look passable. Their eyes meet in the reflection in the window for only a second, until Itou turns away, redder than he’s ever seen him. Is this what things are going to be like between them now? Uncomfortable silences and avoided eyes? Did he do something wrong? Was this a mistake? </p><p>Or…no. That doesn’t quite add up. For starters, Takuru hardly <em> did </em> anything. Itou was the one who checked his fever, and before that, Itou was the one who gave him the jacket and who volunteered to warm him up, so to speak. <em> ‘I’m happy with the one I have,’ </em> he had said about his friendships with guys. There’s no way he would intentionally try to sabotage that unless that was a lie. <em> Was it…? </em>No. That was true. He’s sure of that. But then…?</p><p>Several feet away, Itou readjusts his tie for the sixth time. He’s antsy. He was antsy when he found out they were locked in here together. That didn’t go away until Takuru broke the tension. When Itou found out he doesn’t have a crush, he went silent for a bit. It happened when asked about what he would do in this situation with a girl, and especially when he was asked about another guy. There were so many times where Itou was slow to respond, careful to choose his words when he otherwise normally wouldn’t be. Was he nervous? Afraid of what would happen if he wasn’t careful.</p><p>
  <em> ‘It’s someone you know.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Newspaper Club?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Do you know anyone else…?’ </em>
</p><p> Takuru lets out a shaky breath. Can it be that simple? That easy? He’s not sure, but…standing here with nothing but the feelings of distance and uncertainty between them, with nothing left to lose, he wants to take that chance.</p><p>“Hey Itou,” Takuru approaches Itou from behind. “Did you still want to go to the library later?”</p><p>Itou jumps, leading Takuru to take a step back. But he doesn’t turn around. “I mean if you want. Kinda thought you’d want to go home if you’re sick.” The window reveals he’s fidgeting endlessly with his jacket. Yeah. He’s deflecting.</p><p>“Actually, I feel pretty good today.”</p><p>“If you say so.” </p><p>“Just us.”</p><p>“…Sure.”</p><p>“We’ll probably need food, y’know since we were trapped here overnight, so maybe we’ll go to LAX first.” Takuru’s rambling again, and he’ll continue to do so until Itou turns around and gets the message. “Unless you want to go somewhere else? You like ramen, right?” He will turn around, right? Takuru’s not just aimlessly chattering for no reason? “There’s a pretty good place nearby Hekiho we can stop at.” In the window’s reflection, Itou has stopped fidgeting. “Or…actually, do we need to stop back at home first? We did kind of stay here overnight, and—”</p><p>“You sound like you’re planning a date.” Itou’s expression in the glass is unreadable.</p><p>“I—I um…” Well! Um…fuck. Yeah, he does sound like that, but that’s kind of what he’s trying to do? Maybe? What is he doing again? Why did he think this was a good idea? Did he get ahead of himself? Again? Fuck it, he’s already in too deep he might as well commit! “So? Is…is that a problem?”</p><p>At least, Itou faces him. He looks small, somehow, squeezing his upper arm. Vulnerable. Fragile eyes meet his. “…you sure…?”</p><p>A nod. Takuru reaches out and takes Itou’s hand in his own. He wanted to do that last night; it feels right. After a few moments, their fingers interlock; two fools with ever-growing smiles and pink dusted faces.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>